FilmIndia (Jan-Nov 1942)

Radha, The Dancer Radha the dancer was for the moment in a happy mood. It was the day of the Divali festival and she hoped to have a bigger audience for her nautch than ever before. There were prospects of a good custom and she had created and rehearsed an entirely new pujah dance for the occasion. As she tied her little ghunguru bells around her shapely ankles she hummed the song she was to sing that night and her feet instinctively responded to the strains of the music that came from the next room where the musicians were rehearsing the orchestra. "Radha, Radha," the agitated Ustadji entered, panting for breath. Evidently the old man had been taking the stairs two in a stride. "What is it, Ustadji?", Radha smiled. She liked the old musician who in her childhood, had put her through her paces in dance and song and ever since had acted as friend, philosopher — and pimp! "Radha," replied the Ustadji, trying to control his breathing, "we are fortunate. We are honoured. The Raja Sahib of Jaipur is coming here in person to witness your nautch." and then, rubbing his hands in ecstatic glee, "We are in luck today, my dear." "Oh, said Radha, greatly impressed with the importance of the occasion. "But tell me something about this Raja Sahib of yours. Is he very old?" "Old?" replied the old man contemptuously as if age was his exclusive monopoly, "Why, I remember the Nautch party that his father, the late Raja Sahib, gave on his son's birthday as if it was only yesterday. At most he must be twenty-five. It was only five years ago that he got married. Ah. now that was a marriage.'' There was a gleam reminiscence in the old man's eyes, "Not less than a dozen taefas. Your poor mother, too, had gone to dance. But, of course, you were too young. ..." The Ustadji stopped in the middle of the sentence, realizing his mis take. He ought not to have mentioned her mother. It had taken Radha over a year to get over tne grief of her mother's death and even now the slightest reference to tier was sufficient to send the girl into tears. "Now, now, d..d.. don't cry, my dear." stammered the old man confusedly, "I should not have mentioned it on a night like this. Mow dry up the tears and finish with your make-up." One of the musicians poked his head in the room and announced in a loud whisper, "Hurry up. The Raja Sahib is coming.". Radha choked her sobs and wiped away her tears. That was no time to weep for her mother. "A dancer and prostitute has no right to give way to her emotions," she said to herself, smiling sardonically at hei comely reflection in the mirror. The Raja of Jaipur was a handsome young man, scion of a noble Rajput family, aristocratic of bearing and chivalrous of conduct. As he sat on the masnad in the centre of the assemblage, watching Radha ecstatically going through the grace By: K. Ahmed Abbas ful movements of the Pujah dance, he drank in her beauty with a telltale expression in his eyes which the members of the audience were not slow to notice. The room began to empty and by the time Radha had finished her dance none from the crowd was there. "Wah, Wah, Beautiful" exclaimed the Raja Sahib when Radha finally took her seat. Now he could at last have a good look at her. He had seen many beautiful girls during his stay in England. In fact they occupied the larger part of his time and constituted the most expensive item in his monthly budget. His own wife, they said, was quite beautiful, too. But as he sat there he felt that he had seldom set eyes upon a lovelier face than Radha's. And, then such life, such beauty of movement, such graceful gestures he had never seen in a girl before. At least that is what he thought at the moment. "What is your name, sweet one?" asked the already infatuated young aristocrat in his most courtly tones. "Radha," she simply replied with a shy smile. In accordance with the xisual custom Radha prepared pan and offered it to the Raja, who accepted and placed a hundred rupee note in the tray. 63